


When We Were Young

by Artrix



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 16:05:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11901243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artrix/pseuds/Artrix
Summary: Training to become a hunter was a long and arduous process, and Trevor always tried to meet his father’s expectations. Failure is a powerful motivator though, and after a hunt goes wrong he sets out to prove himself. Only, when injured, he is tended to by a strange, young man. Trevor thought he understood monsters until he met him.





	When We Were Young

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the request: “What if Trevor and Alucard met when they were younger. Like Trevor was trying to prove himself as a Belmont and he got hurt, and he woke up under the care of Alucard (who is apprenticed to his mom as a doctor) . And he's kind of a little shit at first to Alucard, being mean to him verbally, but Alucard just let's it go and still helps him (the Lisa half of Alucard) and it shakes the foundation of Trevor's upbringing that all creatures are evil and just need to die.”
> 
> [[I have no idea what age difference separates Alucard and Trevor, but for the purpose of this request I am going to say that Trevor is four years older than Alucard! Because of Alucard’s youth, I thought he would probably still identify as Adrian!]]

One hunt gone wrong was all it took to shake Trevor to his core. Well, that, and the berating his father had given him. He had made a stupid mistake and he knew it, and he doubted he—or anyone—was going to forget it any time soon.

He’d been warned that he wasn’t fighting a natural creature; they might have looked like normal, black panthers, but their tell was the second tail sprouted next to the first. A closer inspection would have revealed the needle like thorns protruding from the tips, but even that wasn’t what made them most lethal.

It was the fact that they could disappear entirely in the blink of an eye.

Trevor had been warned that if the tails ever went straight up, he needed to strike _right then_ to disrupt it, but he’d missed it. A noise in the distant forest had caught his attention and he’d jerked his head instinctively to see what it was. By the time he looked back at the creature, he saw its tails upright—and then it disappeared. It moved too quickly to track; he saw bushes part, and then it was gone.

His father had scolded him—humiliated him in front of the other two in the hunting party. It probably wasn’t intentional that he’d hurt Trevor’s feelings; he had just been concerned for his well-being and wanted him to remember this lesson so that it could save his life one day.

Probably.

It didn’t mean that the lesson hadn’t still hurt. He’d followed the group back home in silence, head hanging, but he hadn’t been able to deal with the pressure of actually being in the house. His mother had asked how things had gone and his father had launched into a tirade. Even in his room with the door closed, Trevor could hear every word.

It was worse the second time around, but he had listened to it all, again. Gradually, his father’s voice lost volume and he realized that he and his mother were talking in hushed tones. Curiosity had gotten the best of him and he pressed his ear to the door, but he could barely make out anything.

When his parents talked in whispers, he worried.

It didn’t take long for the anxiety that welled inside him to grow; he drew away from the door and began to pace his room.

It was not the first time he’d been called a disgrace or warned he was going to shame the family name, but it stung more now because he had been trying his hardest. This wasn’t a mistake he’d made because he had been half-assing things; this was a mistake he’d made while he was giving it his best effort.

And maybe he was starting to believe what his father had said.

He had been using the Vampire Killer—the ancient whip passed down by his ancestors—and despite its power, he hadn’t been able to master it enough to slaughter the beast. 

His father had said it was because he was unworthy.

Trevor retired to his room armed with the whip and the other weapons he had taken with him on the hunt—a short sword and some knives. The sword was nothing special, though it had been dipped in holy water this morning.

Trevor looked at the window in his room and estimated he could easily jump to the ground from here. He debated for only a second; he heard a door slam downstairs and made up his mind. 

Trevor wasn’t a failure, and he wasn’t going to shame the Belmont name. He had a bad hunt; he’d made mistakes, but he was going to go correct them. He unlocked the window and peered out, making a few final calculations before he stepped over the frame. There was barely a ledge outside of his window but he managed to maneuver out onto it and close the window to his room before leaping down into the bushes below.

He landed on his feet with little issue, but hid in the bushes for a moment to make sure his father wasn’t coming around. When the coast was clear, he drew in a breath and ran back into the forest.

Trevor wasn’t a failure.

He wasn’t going to sit in his room and mope or cry; he was going to prove to his father—prove to himself—that they were wrong.

He had to.

-

The forest darkened faster that he had realized it would but it hadn’t prevented Trevor from finding a set of large paw prints and tracking them deep into the forest. 

At this point, he knew it was stupid to keep going. He just couldn’t stop himself; he couldn’t go home a failure. The panther was dark enough that it wouldn’t have _needed_ to be invisible for Trevor to have been blind to it.

The sky was purple when he heard the low growl from beside him; he recognized the panther immediately as it pushed itself up from where it had been sleeping, curled up in a shallow cave. The cut on its flank was his, and the smell of blood was already in the air.

Relief flooded through him before any sort of fear could; he’d _found_ the beast.

Now, he just had to kill it.

His hand was on his whip and his eyes were locked on the tails, but his rage and determination and raw _desperation_ won him the battle. The creature was tired and injured from before and didn’t stand a change against him. It never had the chance to flee his gaze or get close enough to do any damage.

If only Trevor’s father could have seen _that_.

It took two good strikes from his whip to incapacitate it, and while it was down he had the decency to know he wanted to grant it a switft death. It was a murder, but it wasn’t merciless. 

This creature had preyed on a local flock of sheep at first, but it had moved to any small creature it could find. Chickens, cats—children.

It might not have been a creature capable of understanding what it was doing, but it was a threat to people, and Trevor took care of it before it could do any more harm.

But simply killing it wasn’t enough; he needed to _prove_ that he had killed it.

He had been prepared for that. A sack hung, empty, from his belt. He pulled it free at the same time he unsheathed his sword.

Trevor slit the panther’s neck; it was dead before its head hit the ground. He waited, a moment, just in case, and then moved to the tails. They were still twitching, even as the rest of the corpse slowly came to rest. He gripped them tightly in one hand and lifted them so he could get a clean cut. 

They didn’t bleed as much as he expected.

He had enough time to put them in the sack and reattach it to his belt before he heard another growl behind him.

Trevor did not have time to wield his whip; he had only his short sword and spun just in time to see the snarling face of another, larger panther as it lunged towards him. He felt the pressure of paws and talons on his shoulders as it tried to pin him to the ground but he managed to shift his weight just enough to throw the creature over him. It landed on its back with a snarl that made his blood go cold, and for a moment he realized his father might have been right about that whole ‘needing to pay attention’ thing.

Except, he was either paying too much attention to the area around him, or too much attention towards his target. He didn’t seem to have a balance of it yet, but he wasn’t going to let _this_ thing kill him any more than he was going to let the first one.

In the darkness, it was harder to see. The sun had dipped below the horizon and the purple was spreading, eating away the last bits of light. Where his eyes struggled, the creature’s eyes thrived. 

It lunged at him again, swiping its great talons across his chest. Trevor felt the pain but it didn’t slow him down; he brought his sword down, hard enough to take off an ear and split its eye, but this panther was more durable than the last.

The fight was primal and unsophisticated; Trevor couldn’t get an edge in. The panther pressed closer and he had to keep stepping backwards, praying he didn’t find a root or loose rocks. If he fell, he didn’t know if he’d be getting up again.

They exchanged blows for what felt like an eternity, but what really could have only been seconds.

The panther would lunge, he’d step back. Claws, Sword. Back, forth.

Until, the panther backed away and moved close to the ground. Like a cat, ready to strike.

Its tails went up.

“No,” Trevor gasped, and reached for his whip too late.

The panther disappeared from his sight a split second before Trevor was shoved backwards. He felt teeth at his throat, claws in his arms—and then he fell.

Not on the ground, like he expected, and that alarmed him more than the panther trying to tear his head off. Vaguely, he registered that he was looking at the side of a cliff as he plummeted downwards. The panther’s grip lessened and it flickered into sight as it twisted and flailed in the air. 

Trevor’s sword was still drawn; he twisted as best he could and shoved the sword into the creature’s bulging chest cavity. It jerked away, tearing the sword from his grip.

He didn’t know how far he had left to fall, but Trevor tried to adjust his posture so that if when he landed, he’d lessen the impact, but it was too little too late.

The last thing Trevor saw before his vision went black was the creature smashing into some rocks a few feet away from him.

It didn’t register to him that he wasn’t dead until he caught a whiff of smoke and meat. It didn’t register to him that he _hurt_ until he tilted his head to meet the smell.

He groaned, loudly and tried to reach for his pounding head only to be met the realization that he couldn’t move his arm. Alarm flooded through him and his eyes snapped open; despite the pain he tried to force himself up.

“Stop,” he heard from next to him. A calm voice, a rational voice.

A voice he didn’t recognize.

Trevor didn’t listen, of course, and jerked his head to find the speaker.

He was in a makeshift camp; there was a small fire a few feet from them. A bed had been prepared for him; his pillow was what no more than a lumpy bag and his blanket was a jacket just a bit too small to fully cover him.

They were by the cliff still, and someone had dragged a few large rocks over.

That someone, he assumed, was the young man sitting on one.

The one who had spoken.

“Who are you?” he growled, glancing down at his chest. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and bandaged covered his torso and left arm; his right was wrapped tightly to his chest, clearly meant to hold it in place. He felt the distinct pressure of a bandage around his head, but he didn’t bother to reach to examine that damage.

“Adrian,” said the young man—no, _boy_ , Trevor realized, finally able to _see_ him. “You need to lay down.”

There was something off about him, but Trevor couldn’t immediately place it. Naturally, he ignored the boy and growled, “What are you doing out here? It’s dangerous.”

Adrian didn’t falter, even in the face of such unnecessary hostility. Calmly, he replied, “I was on my way home from town and I saw you.”

“You saw me,” Trevor said flatly. “And not the monster?” he nodded towards the carcass still lying by the base of the cliff. He squinted, only to realize that his sword was lying by the fire, and the smell of meat suddenly seemed more suspicious.

Adrian followed his eyes. “Oh. No, I saw that after I saw you.”

“And you…decided to cook it?”

The pale boy blinked. “You need nutrients.”

“I can’t eat it,” Trevor grunted. “It’s a monster.”

“It’s meat,” Adrian argued. “You can’t afford to be a picky eater. There’s nothing else out here and you need your strength.”

“But I’m not eating _that_ ,” Trevor said harshly, struggling to understand why the hackles on the back of his neck had raised. Something wasn’t right about this; the boy was too calm. It wasn’t just that, though, it was his eyes.

At first, Trevor had thought it was a trick of the fire that his eyes seemed so golden. Now, he wasn’t sure.

Adrian’s lips pursed and he looked from Trevor to the fire, to the carcass, and back to Trevor. “I don’t understand.”

And then, there it was.

His mouth had been open for too long and Trevor saw what he he’d been missing:

 _Teeth_.

Pointy fucking teeth.

The bites on his neck throbbed harder and he strained to remember if it he’d been hurt there, or if maybe this little vampire had gotten in a bite while he was unconscious.

His hand snaked to where his whip should be and, as expected, it wasn’t there. But, surprisingly, it _was_ lying on the ground, right in front of him.

He could have reached it, easily. Could have snapped this little vampire in two, _easily_.

Poor, stupid child. How unfortunate it must have been to be turned so young.

Trevor would put him out of his misery.

He reached for his whip, but Adrian’s voice stopped him with a quiet, “Please don’t strain yourself.”

Trevor took the whip anyway. “Don’t tell me what to do, vampire.”

A look of hurt flashed across the boy’s face, but not so much that Trevor expected it was his first time hearing the insult. He didn’t flinch, but his brows furrowed and Adrian looked back to the meat on the flames. 

“You’re going to hurt yourself. You fell too much. Please lay down. I told my mother I could handle this, and I will be most disappointed if you ruin this for me. I want to make her proud, and if you move too much you’re going to get worse, and I don’t know if she’ll believe me if I say it’s your fault.”

Trevor paused; he gripped the whip tighter but demanded, “Excuse me? What’s your mother got to do with this?”

Adrian sat a little taller and Trevor could see—what was that, _pride_ in his eyes?

It was.

The boy held his head high and announced, “My mother is Lisa Fahrenheit Tepes, and she is the best doctor in all of Lupu, and all of Targoviste, and all of Walachia.”

Trevor was not so convinced. “Vampires cannot be doctors.”

Adrian’s eyes flashed—gold—and Trevor saw those fangs again.

“My mother is not a vampire,” he said, and Trevor could hear the irritation in the boy’s voice. “And if she were, that would make her no less a doctor.”

“Except, vampires are killers. Monsters. Why would they save their food? What, to save it for later?”

Adrian glowered, but his face was so young, so innocent, that it was hardly intimidating—even _with_ those teeth. “My mother is a human, and a kinder one than you. You are not smart, either. I am taking care of you, and I think it is very foolish that you are trying to upset me. Are you trying to make me angry? To make me leave? Because I’m not going to attack you.”

Trevor’s eyes narrowed suspiciously; he’d been planning ways to overpower the young man before him, but something about the way he said he wasn’t going to attack him just took the _need_ to out of him. It threw him for a loop enough that his adrenaline seemed to be trickling away, replaced with only fatigue and pain.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, but the words were forced. It was the truth, he just didn’t have the energy to press it as much as he’d have liked.

Adrian didn’t flinch, though. He seemed to expect this and shrugged. “Most people don’t. But I haven’t done any harm.”

Trevor snorted disdainfully and carefully lowered himself back to the ground.

Just for a moment, he told himself. Just long enough to collect himself.

Adrian stood and he was immediately on edge again; the boy didn’t seem to be looking at him. Instead he was glancing around the makeshift campsite. Adrian seemed pleased when he located something and moved across the campsite to reach it. Despite Trevor’s best efforts, he couldn’t even follow him with his eyes.

He closed them, for only a second. Or, at least, he’d told himself he’d close them for just a second. The reality was, he must have passed out sometime afterwards because when he came to he was jerking awake with Adrian next to him.

Something wet was sliding down his neck.

Naturally, he expected the worst and jerked his pain-wracked body to kick the boy’s legs; Adrian yelped loudly and fell backwards. He landed, hard, and then lay still for a moment. Trevor took the opportunity to grab for his whip again, but even when he managed to wield it, Adrian hadn’t moved.

The boy groaned and reached to hold one a hand to his arm, rolling onto his side and curling into himself a bit before slowly pushing himself up into a seated position. In the darkness, Trevor couldn’t make out much of anything except that Adrian’s shirt seemed to cling to his thin form as if it were wet.

As if it were…

Trevor’s lips were wet. His cheek. His hair.

Water.

“Shit,” he swore, instead of an apology.

Adrian didn’t look at him; instead he clutched at his arm and grimaced. 

Trevor could smell blood, suddenly, but it wasn’t his own. 

Neither spoke for a long moment, but it wasn’t entirely silent. Adrian drew in a sharp breath and Trevor could see how tightly he was holding his arm. At first, he didn’t see what could have caused him much damage, until he saw his weapons laid out neatly, within reach.

 _Carefully_ laid out. Deliberately. So he could see and account for each and every one of them.

And he had thrown Adrian right onto them. Blood was dripping down the boy’s arm, staining the white fabric of his shirt, but Adrian was quiet, sans his breathing.

He hadn’t cried out, hadn’t spoken or swore.

He looked like he was fighting off tears.

For a moment, with his fangs and golden eyes hidden, he looked human, and Trevor felt a wave of guilt flood through him.

“Hey,” he muttered, after another moment of silence. He tried to reach out, maybe to comfort the boy—or something; honestly, he didn’t know what he was doing. Whatever it was, Adrian hadn’t let him. The young man jerked away, finally rolling off of the weapons and making his way back to the stone he’d been sitting on.

Trevor could see the cup Adrian had been using to pour water into his mouth.

He felt worse, but he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

This wasn’t the type of creature he’d been trained to kill. Not like the monster at the base of the cliff, or any of the vampires of legend. This was a _boy_ , who might a well have been human, except for the _teeth_ in his mouth.

If it was a trap, it was a damned good one. Trevor had fallen into it and didn’t know how to claw his way out.

“Hey,” he tried again, this time more stern. He _hurt_ , and it was easy for his words to come out harsher than he meant.

Adrian only shied away; he didn’t take a seat on the stone like Trevor had expected. Instead, he picked up his bag. 

Not to get a bandage for his arm, like Trevor also expected; he put the bag over his shoulder. His lips were still tightly pursed and, when the boy turned from the fire, Trevor could clearly make out the wetness in his eyes. 

There was a determination in his face, but vulnerability all the same. He wore a mask of calm, but his eyes were too expressive.

When Adrian didn’t look at him, Trevor realized it was because he was leaving.

“Adrian,” he called again, but the boy had already begun to walk into the darkness. Trevor wasn’t afraid to be alone, not really; if he’d been healthy it wouldn’t have been a problem at all. Or, at least, that’s what his pride told him. Logic was not so kind.

Logic told him that he was injured and didn’t know how badly, and this kid claimed to be a doctor. He had bandaged him, prepared him food, painstakingly dripped water into his mouth, gave him the clothes off his back, and had laid out his weapons to try and make him feel safe.

That wasn’t how a monster acted.

Adrian had stayed up with the campfire; he was young enough that it was probably well past his bedtime, and yet he had stayed awake to keep an eye on Trevor and make sure he was taken care of. He was probably the only thing keeping away whatever other creatures lurked in the forest.

The forest that suddenly seemed so much darker, so much more intimidating.

“Don’t go,” Trevor blurted. “Please.”

Adrian’s steps slowed but didn’t stop, so Trevor tried again with a bit more honesty. It came across as desperation, and even that wasn’t inaccurate. “I’m sorry. You startled me. I don’t want you to leave. I need you.”

A guilty conscience weighed heavily on Adrian, who stopped walking away. He stood, silhouette just barely visible in the distance, and then slowly turned around. He returned to Trevor’s side with caution, brows knit and not looking entirely convinced that he’d made the right decision.

Trevor breathed a sigh of relief and all but collapsed back on the ground.

He’d pushed his limits too far and his vision was swimming again. He closed his eyes and tried to will the throbbing of his head away.

“I told you not to sit up,” Adrian said quietly. He set his bag back down next to Trevor and pulled out a small pouch. It smelled strongly of herbs, but Trevor couldn’t identify them. He didn’t see Adrian pick up the cup or pour the herbs into it, and he didn’t see the boy open a flask from his bag and fill the cup up. He felt him, though. Moving.

He was by his side again in only a moment, carefully reaching behind Trevor’s head and lifting it. “I need you to drink this. If you hurt, it will help. If you don’t hurt, it won’t kill you.”

Trevor didn’t open his eyes but he did open his mouth. This time, he drank what Adrian gave him. The more he drank, the more Adrian gave him, although it was always slow and paced. They didn’t spill a drop and when Trevor finished, he heard Adrian breathe a sigh of relief. “Good. Will you please eat something?”

He didn’t want to, but he felt _so_ weak. He grunted a response, and Adrian seemed to understand that it was as close to a yes as he was going to get. 

Trevor’s head returned to the ground and he heard shuffling again; his consciousness drifted for a bit until he was suddenly met with the smell of meat.

The smell of _good_ meat.

Adrian was lifting his head up again, just slightly, and had cut a small cube of meat for him. He held it by the hunter’s mouth patiently and did not have to command him to eat; after a begrudging second, Trevor opened his mouth and accepted it.

And liked it.

It had a velvety texture that seemed to melt in his mouth; it was easy to chew and full of flavor enough that he couldn’t find reason to complain about anything other than the fact that it was gone too quickly. He found himself opening his mouth for a second piece before it was offered, but quickly enough Adrian was fulfilling this request.

They didn’t talk for nearly ten minutes, until he’d eaten his fill and Adrian seemed equally satisfied. He was mindful of the weapons, taking careful note to avoid them. When Trevor was fed, he got up to reclaim his seat on the stone, but Trevor’s voice halted him.

“Why are you helping me? Really, I mean. You know what I am.”

“A hunter?” Adrian clarified.

Trevor grunted a response. He tried to open an eye, but even that felt too strenuous. Instead, he listened, trying to pick up on anything Adrian would give him.

He didn’t expect honesty.

“Because you help people. And, even if you didn’t, I couldn’t leave you like that.”

“You could have,” Trevor pointed out. “You could have kept walking and left me to the forest.”

“No,” Adrian answered firmly. “I couldn’t. Not while you were alive. If I could have helped you, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I didn’t.”

Which was the right answer for what Trevor wanted to hear, but the wrong answer for what a vampire should say. It didn’t add up, and the more he tried to understand it, the angrier he was getting. Trevor was missing something, so he demanded, “Why are you like that, then?”

Adrian did not impulsively answer, but he did answer as honestly as he could. “Because it’s how I want to be. I told you. My mother is the best doctor there is, and I want to make her proud. I want to do what she does. I want to help people.”

“But _why_?” Trevor persisted, voice little more than a growl.

There was no frustration in Adrian’s voice. “Because I want to be good.”

Because he knew what he was. He knew what was in his veins. He knew what he had the potential to be, and unlike any of the creatures Trevor had ever known, Adrian was fighting it. Like he _could_ make that choice.

…Was that possible?

Trevor forced his eyes open and settled them on Adrian, perplexed. It had never occurred to them that there was a _choice_ involved. Sometimes, the monsters they hunted looked like monsters. Those were easy.

The ones that looked human, he’d been told, were deceptive. They would use empathy and compassion against their hunters, and would lie and twist the situation to their favor.

But no _child_ was capable of such well crafted deception, and no matter how hard Trevor tried to see through Adrian, all he saw was child who had saved him.

It wouldn’t have been entirely untrue to say that he owed his life to Adrian. Maybe he would have lived without being tended to, and maybe he’d survive the night alone, but Adrian had made sure he had what he needed and _wasn’t_ alone. 

He hadn’t asked for anything, hadn’t demanded any payment. He’d taken no blood and done Trevor no harm.

Why was it easier to believe that he was up to some nefarious plan, some grand scheme, than it was to just accept that maybe he wanted to help?

“But I hunt monsters,” Trevor said, bravado faltering. “You know what you are.”

“Not a vampire, not truly,” Adrian protested, but he rubbed at his arm again. It wasn’t bleeding anymore so he must have healed at the same rate as a vampire. “But my father is.”

“And you don’t want to be like him?” Trevor prompted.

“He’s not bad,” Adrian insisted. “But…”

The words tapered off, and Trevor watched as Adrian struggled to find an answer. Finally, the boy said, “I’d just rather be like my mother.”

There was hope in his eyes, that no creature of evil could mimic. Of that, Trevor was certain.

And it made his stomach twist in uncomfortable knots.

He could have killed Adrian without a second thought. He could have slaughtered him and not ever had this discussion. Not ever had to wonder if there was more than just bloodlust and evil coursing through his veins. He was too tired for this level of thinking; his body was exhausting and pleading for reprieve, and yet his mind was churning, begging for resolve.

“I don’t get it,” he finally whispered. “I’m supposed to hunt monsters.”

Adrian tilted his head curiously. “Don’t you?”

“I _thought_ I did.” But what if he’d killed some innocent creature before? Some good soul, just trapped in the body of a monster?

Adrian glanced towards the carcass by the cliff. “You were hunting that one.”

“Yeah, but it was attacking people. And it sort of _looks_ like a monster. That one was easy.”

“No,” Adrian said. “I wouldn’t say that. It almost killed you, after all.”

Trevor didn’t need to be reminded and huffed again.

There was silence between the two, but Adrian broke it after a moment. “Thank you.”

It took Trevor by surprise. “For what?”

“Hunting monsters.”

Said the would-be monster. Said the child with a monster for a father. Trevor sighed heavily. “Why?” he asked again, still demanding answers.

“Because they hurt people. More than I can fix them. Sometimes, more than my mother can fix them.” The boy shrugged. “And my mother says humans have hard enough lives without dealing with monsters, so you’re doing a really good thing, hunting them.”

Trevor had thought so, twelve hours ago. Now, he couldn’t shake the doubt. “My family keeps a bestiary, a book of all monsters we’ve hunted, and their weaknesses. Not all monsters lurk in the forests. Some live in town, like humans.”

Adrian nodded, but glanced at Trevor like he was waiting for some snide comment or insult about his heritage.

It didn’t come.

“Those,” Trevor continued. “Those are the ones I’m thinking about. The ones that are trying to pass as human. Like you.”

“I am human,” Adrian pressed, but a few seconds later admitted, “Well, half, at least. But. I live with humans. I see them every day. And…”

He shrugged and fell quiet, but Trevor hung on to each passing second, waiting for him to finish his thought.

When he did, it was sad, and quiet. “Sometimes I can’t tell a difference from the humans and the monsters, either. I think there’s good and bad in both of them. But the monsters are easy to target because they look so different. And the humans, we make excuses for, because we’re like them, and if they could do something terrible, so could we.”

It was true, of course. Not that Trevor wanted to admit it.

Adrian was an insightful little thing.

“…I never thought of it like that,” Trevor admitted. “But I don’t hunt humans.”

“No,” Adrian shrugged. “We’ll try to help them, me and you. Only, they’ll like me more at the end of the day.”

Trevor huffed. “Why?”

“Because you’re rude, and I’m not.”

A smile found its way to Trevor’s face.

He didn’t know when he fell asleep, but when he woke up the sky was grey and there was the faintest hint of color on the horizon. He could hear the fire crackling but its light had all but died away. Adrian was sitting on the same stone he’d last seen him, hunched over in what must have been an uncomfortable sleep.

Trevor was stiff and sore but in one piece. When he tried to sit up again, he managed it without the dizziness or the threat of unconsciousness. He was still full from the meat Adrian had fed him, and though he was thirsty it wasn’t anything unbearable. Carefully, he peeled the jacket off of himself and checked his wounds.

A few places were more sore than others, but some careful prodding told him that he’d been damned lucky—or Adrian really was pretty good with his skills. It took him a moment to collect his weapons, and even longer to redress himself. Sliding his bandaged arm through the sleeve of his shirt was more difficult than it should have been, but no respectable Belmont would have walked around shirtless.

And, he was a respectable Belmont. He just had to go home and prove it.

He collected his belongings but saved the most important thing for last—the bag with the tail he’d acquired from the monster last night.

He pushed himself up, lightly testing his weight on each foot before walking towards the base of the cliff. He’d nearly died for this prize; he wasn’t going home without it. It took twice a much effort to severe the tail from this creature than it had the first, both because it was thicker and because Trevor didn’t have the same strength as he’d had yesterday. He was not left handed so the action was awkward, but he had made up his mind to see this through. When he severed the tails, he shoved them in the bag before fastening it to his belt. He tucked away his knife before eyeing the cliff.

He wasn’t climbing back up it; he’d have to take the long way. There was a path in the distance, a few hundred yards from the camp Adrian had set up for them. Trevor figured he could follow the path that until he reached the forest, and then just cut through it and go home.

It was going to be a long walk and Trevor honestly wasn’t looking forward to it, but he had come this far.

He hoped the look on his father’s face was going to be worth it.

Each step was slow and careful and by the time he shuffled back to the camp, Adrian had already stood. “Are you leaving now?” the younger man asked, voice groggy from sleep.

Trevor was certain he’d heard genuine concern in his voice.

“I should,” Trevor grunted. “It’s going to take me a while to get home, and I want to get back before it gets dark again.”

Adrian didn’t blame him; he nodded and gave Trevor a good look over before drawing away. He couldn’t see his injuries beneath the bandages or the clothes, but he could tel that they weren’t bleeding at least. “That makes sense. But you need to be careful. Please take it easy for a while. I don’t know if I’ll find you the next time you’re alone and hurt in the forest.”

Trevor laughed softly, despite the voice in the back of his head that wouldn’t stop reminding him that he was still standing in front of a half breed. “You’ll keep a look out for me though, just in case, won’t you?”

Adrian thought for a moment as he walked across the camp and picked up his coat from the ground. He shook it off and began to slide it on before he looked at Trevor again. A smile appeared on his face. “If I must.”

Trevor didn’t know if he should be upset at how amusing Adrian was. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again. Not like this. Maybe after I have some time to take all this in. And come to terms with the fact that maybe you’re not so bad.”

“Maybe,” Adrian agreed. “And, maybe we could be friends.”

There was something childish, something _hopeful_ in Adrian’s words. Trevor couldn’t have said no even if he’d wanted to.

He regarded the pale boy before him, younger than him but probably not by much. He hadn’t yet reached puberty so Trevor knew he was still very new to the world.

It was a foolish idea to be friends with a monster, but perhaps a more foolish one to make enemies of one.

Especially one with such a kind heart.

“Friends, I can do. But,” he reached to scratch at his chin with his good hand; he could feel a bit of scruff starting and he felt the ache of homesickness a bit too strongly. “You’d better not tell anyone about this. I’d have to deny it.” He gestured to his whip for emphasis. “You understand, of course.”

Adrian didn’t need to look at the whip to understand. “Of course. It’ll be our secret,” he promised. “Besides. The people might lose faith in you if they knew how easily you almost killed yourself. I’d hate to sully your good name.”

Trevor snorted and gave Adrian a testy look. “I’d sully your name, too.” Somehow.

Adrian smiled, forgetting for a moment that he had fangs to hide. Trevor saw them, but he said nothing.

They didn’t look nearly as threatening as they should.

“Be safe,” Adrian insisted, with too much compassion.

Trevor nodded, still convinced he could take care of himself. Adrian, though.

He hoped Adrian could defend himself, if ever the need arose.

“You, too. And, I suppose,” Trevor pursed his lips. “…I’ll find a way to repay this, some day.”

Adrian looked at him, another smile appearing. This one seemed tamer, and he said, “I hope there never comes a day when I need saving. But if it does come, I would like very much for it to be you to rescue me. And then we’ll call ourselves even. Deal?”

Trevor hesitated and then cracked a smile of his own. He clapped Adrian on the shoulder and promised, “Deal.”

Blood or not, Adrian was not a monster. Nothing in his posture, his actions, his voice, indicated he could have been.

Trevor parted from him with great confliction. His walk home was slow and painful, but he could only blame himself and his arrogance. If he’d stayed home, maybe he wouldn’t have spent the entire walk thinking of Adrian’s words.

Of Adrian’s smile.

The weight of the tails he carried on his belt only seemed to grow as the day went on, but even their weight didn’t quite compare to the weight in his heart.

He’d done all this with the intent to make his father proud, and yet, he knew that if his father knew the truth he’d only be more disappointed in him.

Making friends with a vampire—or, even, just half of one?

His father would never understand.

Even Trevor didn’t understand.

But, he was trying to.

He’d be ready, for the next time he ran into Adrian. Or any ‘monster’ out there like him.

**Author's Note:**

> I am sorry about my slow posting! I am still working towards fulfilling all of my requests but might be a little slower for a while until I get back in the groove of things. Thank you so much for reading!


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